


Bleeding Slow

by FridaysChild



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:52:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FridaysChild/pseuds/FridaysChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim’s starting to remember things. Sequel to Salmon_Pink's <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/442789">Bleed-Through</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Slow

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bleed-Through](https://archiveofourown.org/works/442789) by [Salmon_Pink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink). 



> _We wear our wounds for all to see  
>  the reason for our memories  
> but what happens when they go?  
> Are they healed or are they bleeding slow?_
> 
> Thank you, Salmon Pink, for letting me play in your sandbox again.

Tim objectively acknowledges that he may have a problem.

He’s in this cycle where he swears he’s not going near Superboy - Kon - that he doesn’t even like the man, and then his resolve lasts all of five minutes when they’re somewhere private. Or sometimes somewhere that doesn’t happen to have any people at the particular moment. Roofs, closets, hotel rooms...for a guy who was a virgin a couple months prior, he sure is getting acquainted with every flat surface imaginable in a hurry.

So he and Kon make out, Kon leaves embarrassing hickeys on his neck, and then someone stalks out angry, Tim swears off clones, and the cycle begins all over again.

Thing is, it’s getting worse.

It doesn’t hurt that Kon is six feet plus of absolutely perfectly sculpted muscle, thick dark hair, and unearthly blue eyes. And now that they’re past the whole killing thing, he’s starting to turn into a pretty decent, even quite likeable, human being. Although some days it’s slow coming.

But there’s more going on than that - and Tim’s starting to remember things.

Things that never happened, and the fact that Tim knows exactly how to touch Kon, and Kon knows exactly how to touch Tim. Hell, Tim wouldn’t have even known how to touch himself if there’d been another one of him.

Which sounds kind of kinky, but it’s true, and highlights the bizarreness of the fact that they both knew what they were doing with such certainty, because he doesn’t think Kon had that much experience either.

But Tim remembers doing this in places he knows he’s never been. In what looks like a furnished hayloft, in the fields outside. On the roof of this ridiculous building shaped like a T (seriously, that can’t be structurally sound, can it?). In someone’s apartment - Tim thinks it looks like it’s his but not a here-this.

The memories tend to be fleeting, here and gone, hard to catch, but the more they do...whatever it is they’re doing...the more he seems to remember, the longer it takes to fade away.

He can’t exactly talk to Bruce about this, so he goes to the other smartest person he knows. Unfortunately, Virgil just gives an obtuse and ridiculous spiel about time travel and splinter universes and quantum physics and Tim’s smart so he’s pretty sure Virgil’s just talking crazy.

Tim feels like his heart is breaking a little for his crazy imaginary Kon - Conner, he goes by in Tim’s head, Tim remembers that now. He can see these glimpses of that Conner in his Kon, sometimes, especially as time goes on. And sometimes, during sex, it’s like Kon’s remembering too, some person he was somewhere and somewhen else. Tim somehow misses that Conner, aches for him with all his heart, like someone he’s lost. Someone he’d loved. Still loves.

 

Kon bursts into his room, looking ruffled. “Bart’s being a pest. You need to tell him to stop.”

“Right, when the sun rises in the west,” Tim answers, because Bart tries really, really hard to listen but he gets bored and then disasters happen. And anyway, he knows he’s not making it out of his room, not now that Conner - Kon, he reminds himself fiercely- is here.

“Well, what good are you?” Kon asks, taking a step forward, heat in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me, I can’t even keep him out of my closet. And I’m really only the leader in the field. Everyone is free to do as they please here. Well, within reason.” Tim lounges on the bed in a way that’s deliberately casual, which is designed to both annoy Kon and turn him on. Figuring out how to push his buttons has been laughably easy.

Kon prowls closer, predator in every line of his body. Tim isn’t sure when exactly he started to enjoy playing with fire, but at this point it’s probably a Pavlovian response for him. Annoy Kon, have really hot sex. “You are infuriating,” Kon growls, and just like that, they’re off. Kon is sucking and nibbling on his ear, and Tim knows that his goal is to wind Tim up as fast as possible. Which means that Tim’s goal is to make sure he gets Kon just as wound up just as fast.

He’s gotten kind of used to the deja vu now, and is remembering to expect it, but it’s stronger each time which means that a full adjustment is difficult.

“Rob,” Kon breathes against his neck, nibbling at another spot that drives Tim wild. Tim retaliates by scratching his nails firmly down Kon’s back, rubbing just at the base of his spine with his thumb, drawing a shiver out of Kon. Tim had learned fast that one difference between fantasy Conner and real Kon is that he can’t be as rough with Kon - his TTK protects him but he’s not largely invulnerable (yet, a little voice whispers).

Tim feels the ripple of TTK along his shirt and all his buttons come undone at once; Kon yanks his shirt off, then tucks his head-

_-Conner kisses Tim’s collarbone. “Have I told you that you’re awesome recently?”_

_Tim squirms underneath him, feeling himself smiling despite himself. The sun’s shining into the hayloft, almost too bright and definitely too hot to be doing this out here, but they don’t want to scandalize Ma and Pa. It smells sweet and earthy, like hay, and the fitted sheets on the sofa bed are sun warm against the skin of Tim’s bare back. There’s distant mooing from the fields, a dog yapping, the sound of cicadas in the trees._

_Conner had talked him into this, coaxing him with sweet talk, and kisses to all the sensitive spots along his neck, nibbles to his ear, and this place is so Conner that Tim can’t help but love it. “Maybe a few times.” He leans up to catch Conner’s lips-_

And Kon’s kissing him back. It’s night in New York, the city lights flushing the sky outside the window grey. There’s the hum of the street below him, the distant wail of sirens that they both ignore because they can’t always be on the clock, and they can’t stop now even if they wanted to. The donut shop on the other side of the back alley is frying for the next morning, the smell wafting sweet and artificial on the cool breeze through Tim’s open window, and goosebumps rise on Tim’s naked skin as Kon kisses his chest, sucks on a nipple and then blows cool air over it.

“Cold?” Kon says, tugging up the covers. Kon’s like a furnace, pleasantly warm right now, and Tim presses up against him, wrapping his legs-

_-around Conner’s waist. He’s damp from sweat already, but there’s no way he’s going to stop now. Tim wiggles out of his pants with Conner’s help, and then Conner’s squeezing his ass, sliding his hands to Tim’s hips, and rolling him over. “Please,” he whispers in Tim’s ear, and Tim swallows thickly, nods, arches his back and lifts his hips. There’s no reason to be nervous, he reminds himself; he’s faced down The Joker, inhaled Scarecrow’s fear gas, seen the worst the world has to offer. He knows how to deal with nerves. He inhales slowly, exhales slower, is still breathing out when Conner’s slick finger presses into him._

_“Conner,” he chokes, because it feels strange, and there’s no denying that Conner’s finger alone is thick, but it feels good, too, rubbing against undeniably sensitive nerves._

_Tim shifts his knees a little wider-_

-groaning as Kon finger fucks him slowly, being far more gentle than Tim would have expected. He barely knows anymore where or when he is. He’s not even sure he knows who he is. Tim, Tim Drake, Red Robin, but which one, which time, which place? Is he under the heat of a midwestern - Kansas, he knows it’s Kansas - sun, or feeling the breeze of a New York night in autumn? He might be going crazy but he’s not even sure he cares anymore, with Kon’s finger in his ass, Conner placing loving kisses across his shoulders.

Kon’s finger pulls out and then there’s the cool, messy drip of lube as Kon outright pours it over him. Tim can feel his gaze on his back, on his hole, and he feels flushed, feeling sexy and embarrassed at the same time. Kon rubs teasingly with his thumb, then growls, two fingers sinking back in and pressing deeper, curling, and-

_-heat races up Tim’s spine and his hips thrust helplessly. Conner’s TTK wraps around his waist and he can hear himself whimpering helplessly, and anyone else he’d be freaking out about how he can’t move, but this is Conner, the person he trusts most in the world._

_Conner’s not a slow learner when it comes to Tim’s body, and he’s pressing and teasing at that spot enough to drive Tim crazy. “Conner,” he gasps. “Conner.”_

_“Shh,” Conner murmurs. “You’re still so tight.” He kisses Tim’s shoulderblade, scissors his fingers, starts thrusting his fingers with steady pace and pressure against Tim’s prostate. Tim’s still squirming desperately against his hold, wanting more. “God, Tim, if you could see yourself. You make it hard for a guy to wait.”_

_“So come on already,” Tim growls, canting his hips higher, lowering his shoulders to the bed._

_“I am reminding you of this moment the next time you give me a lecture on patience,” Conner says, pulling back with his fingers, squeezing more lube out with the apparent goal of getting it everywhere._

_“Next time it’s your turn and we’ll see how patient you are,” Tim says, and makes a face. “Use the entire bottle, why don’t you.”_

_Conner just grins, gripping Tim’s hips and pressing in slowly. Tim groans, low and needy-_

And the world splinters apart and Kon’s hips are resting against his ass, and he’s rolling them slowly, not really in and out yet, just pressing more firmly against his ass with each roll. Tim’s seeing in double vision now, and it’s like he’s getting fucked by two Kons - two Conners - and the feel is almost overwhelming. He’s surely going crazy and he’s not sure he cares anymore if being crazy is the best feeling he’s ever had in his life.

“I love you, Tim. No matter what,” Conner whispers in his ear.

“God,” Kon says, and then murmurs words against his skin Tim can’t make out. Kon’s thrusting harder now, and Conner is too, and someone’s released Tim’s hips so he’s rocking back to meet every thrust, moaning. Tim’s going to last a really embarrassingly short time. “Mine,” Kon growls. “All mine.”

“My clone boy,” Tim responds, automatic.

“My wonder boy,” Kon responds. Tim freezes.

“Conner,” he gasps, blinking hard, and Kon’s hand is on him, stroking him surely, and Tim pants and moans and comes so hard he thinks he sees the hayloft again.

“Tim,” Kon says, and he said Tim’s name, his name that he’s never told any of the Titans, that even most of the Gotham capes don’t know.

“You remember, too-” he whispers, just a breath of sound, his cheeks damp.

Conner pulls out gently and rolls Tim over, brushing his lips over both cheeks. His face is the gentlest Tim’s ever seen it, the one that he remembers from some long ago place. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“If you are, we both share the same delusion, and I think that’s...extremely unlikely.”

Conner studies him seriously for a moment. “I don’t understand what this means.”

Tim slips his arms around Conner, a little shyly because Kon never stayed before. “I have this friend, crazy smart.”

Conner barks a laugh against his neck, presses kisses there. “Smarter than you, egghead?”

“Way smarter than me. He says that, at least theortically, time travel could cause splinter universes to...resolve paradoxes. Possibly for other reasons. There can be connections between the two but only in unusual circumstances as yet to be identified. And...we won’t remember...things we’re not ready to. Things that would upset the universes.”

“I remember everything I need to. Like...” Conner nods towards Tim’s costume, hanging in the closet. “I remember you didn’t dress like such a peacock.”

“I remember a really bad fade haircut,” Tim shoots back.

“So the other you...” Conner’s hand comes up, cupping Tim’s cheek hesitantly, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “...was in love with the other me.”

Tim stiffens, but nods.

Conner smiles, tentative. “And the other me was in love with the other you. Do you...do you think you could ever love me that way?”

Tim relaxes, leaning into Conner’s hand. “If you’re even a little like him, I won’t be able to help it.”


End file.
